A Fortunate Misfortune
by Kwahzutah
Summary: Omega vampires don't start developing hormones until they're over a hundred and fifty years old. When Damon starts to notice some... odd things happening, he takes it upon himself to camp out in the basement until it blows over. Unfortunately for him, the move doesn't go unnoticed, and he's in for way more than he anticipated. Set in season two. A/B/O AU


Please don't come at me, uwu! I promise I'll update Gratuitous Title Here, Please!

This is just a shameless piece of PWP because I am A/B/O trash and find ways to apply it to basically every fandom I'm a part of. This is unedited and something I wrote just for myself, so it might not be terribly well-written or make that much sense - but I figured someone out there might get some jollies from it, so enjoy! It's non-con because A/B/O dynamics and heats and all that...

I hope you like it!

-————

It started with small things.

Smells stood out even more than normal, especially on other vampires. He avoided inhaling any more than necessary, filing it away into the "deal with later," category in his mind. He found himself disliking open spaces, often preferring smaller rooms and spaces more than the more spacious areas of the house. That could be explained away as paranoia over the situation with Klaus, but that hardly explained the nearly irresistible urge to crawl into the narrow space under his bed to sleep.

It was the hot flashes that worried him. Vampires shouldn't be overheating, shouldn't be producing warmth, and yet he found himself waking in a sweat more often than not.

Vampires changed as they aged, that was true. They developed keener senses, new gifts, strange quirks and mannerisms, but they weren't supposed to overheat and hide in closets.

Damon knew something was wrong with him. He could feel it, but no one seemed to notice. That was for the best - let him deal with this as surreptitiously as possible, thank you.

It was the day he stumbled on the stairs that he knew he couldn't carry on like this. Vampires didn't stumble, their knees didn't wobble, their legs didn't give out as their vision blurred. And yet he tumbled down the stairs, landing hard on his back on the middle landing and blinking owlishly at the ceiling.

Stefan poked his head out of the library.

"What was that?" he asked.

Ugh, sure. Fat chance of Damon telling anything of his ailment to this cruel mirror image of his little brother - he'd go running to Klaus in an instant.

"That was the whiskey. Not me," he replied.

Back up the stairs and into his room in a flash, longing for the privacy to have a minor freak out without an audience.

Why? he asked himself, grasping at the edge of the dresser with a furious scowl at the grainy texture of the furniture. Vampires sometimes developed additional hormones around the age of 100, but it was pretty rare for a young vampire to make it that long, and that was to become an alpha - which he certainly was not. At 178, he should be far past anything of this sort.

But it niggled at the back of his mind… they could also develop omegan hormones-

An immediate scoff. Any vampire had a one in a thousand chances of even having the potential for that, much less actualizing on it - and almost all omega vampires died during their first heat.

Still… what were the odds of him knowing not one, but two doppelgängers?

No, he was just sick. Or something. Just a freak illness he'd somehow managed to get. He still decided to hide out for a while, in case Klaus decided to try his luck at the Salvatore residence - or if his foolish little brother did something stupid.

Damon waited until his brother left and he was fairly certain the house was empty, then descended into the lower levels of the house. Down a first flight, then another, far enough down that the temperature saw a decline.

Down a narrow, winding hallway and deep into the bowels of the mansion. Near the end of the hall, one of the rooms they'd added later on, meant for protection. It was a little space, barely ten feet on either side, with dusty armchairs and a dark coffee table covered in a layer of gray.

The heavy metal door clanged as it shut, revealing the many rows of locks on the inside. The outside didn't even have a handle - it had to be unlocked and pushed open to enter the room.

He wasn't hiding. Just… being cautious.

The armchair puffed up in a cloud of dust as he wiped away the layer of must. He let himself fall into the plush cushions with a weak glare at the door. It would only take a day or two and he'd be fine.

Just fine.

Two days and a handful of missed calls from his brother. He neglected to respond with anything more than a curt text message to leave him alone, but the air had grown freezing in the room as his own temperature rose.

Vampires didn't sweat, dammit!

There was only so much he could do to entertain himself with the vapid games on his cell phone until the cold began to gnaw at him and he threw the device against the wall with a decisive crack.

He rubbed at his face. He was fine. He was fine.

He wasn't.

Damon itched. His wrists, the insides of his elbows, his neck especially… he scratched as hard as he could and it did nothing to alleviate it, drawing blood from wounds that healed and leaving crimson stains and dried blood in the wake of his nails. As much as he scratched he found no relief, only raw aggravation that had him pacing in the small room that still felt too open.

When he got a whiff he realized what was happening and his heart dropped. He could smell what seemed like… himself? Only it was all wrong - too sweet, so overpowering that even a human could catch a whiff, so mouthwatering that it even made him hungry.

Damon scratched even harder at his neck, curled up in a knot of misery on the armchair. Teeth scraped at his wrists, drawing blood, but doing nothing to rid him of the smell. The door to that little room should block out all scents - to prevent anyone in hiding from being lured out by fresh blood - but the moment that door opened he would be ruined.

There was no other explanation for it. He was an omega. He was going to die-

He'd rather die, to be frank.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. He scrubbed at it with a sour look on his face. Then a harsh cramp in his stomach had him doubling over, clutching at his midsection. It felt like a burning stake being shoved through him, wooden claws tearing away at his insides.

He ended up on the floor, writhing with his back against the armchair and biting his lip to avoid letting out a groan. That door was scent-proof, but unfortunately not soundproof.

Which was how his ears caught the sound of footsteps. They clicked along the stone floor of the twisted little hallway outside, coming ever nearer with an echo like death.

Damon curled up tighter against the armchair. Just don't say anything. Don't move, don't breathe, they have no way of knowing-

A clamorous knock on the metal door.

He held his breath and clenched his fists.

"Damon," came the last voice he wanted to hear.

Damon remained silent, tensing as another cramp sent hot knives through him - in comparison, the rest of him felt too cold, too empty and a fine tremor had overtaken him that would be imperceptible to the human eye.

"Damon, I know you're in there," rose the lilt of Klaus' voice. "Even if weren't a hybrid, do you think I can't track your steps?"

Silence, that he held onto as hard as he could.

"I'm going to offer you a deal…" Klaus said. "I've promised your brother to spare you. One simple compulsion and I'll send you on your merry way."

Then he added, "All you have to do is open the door."

Damon's mind felt slow, fuzzy. The words took a few moments to register after they were spoken.

"Damon, open the door. I'm being merciful, but if you don't then I will kill you here and now."

He couldn't, he couldn't risk that, couldn't let Klaus see-

Or smell, rather.

"I'm going to get in. It's more work than I'd care for, but there isn't a universe where I don't get in this door… so it's better for you-"

Another long silence.

"Nothing snappy to say?"

A loud crash, then a dent forming in the door in the shape of a fist. It shook the metal on its hinges, rattling the locks.

It was nothing compared to the roaring in his ears or the pain lancing from his stomach to the top of his spine.

The door shook again.

It bent.

Hot blood dropped down his neck from where he'd raked his nails across, trying to stop it, please stop the smell-

The metal door ripped off the hinges and hung limply from the rows of padlocks. Damon heard footsteps enter on the tails of a warm, spicy scent that barreled into the room like a hurricane.

He pressed himself against the armchair and turned his head, keeping his gaze resolute on the wall and ignoring Klaus. Maybe he would kill him quickly and just be done with it?

The following pause said otherwise. He heard an inhale-

"I wondered what you were doing all the way down here."

Damon could feel the air in the room shift as the hybrid drew closer. Steps, a presence coming near and standing above him - still, he didn't look at him.

"The Salvatore brothers continue to surprise me with good fortune… first I have your brother, then you lead me right to the doppelgänger, and even you show some value - right at the last moment. Do you even know how lucky you are?"

He spared a glance. There, smiling down at him with all the fondness one might show their favorite dog, stood Klaus. He had his hands on his hips, a mean gleam in his eye as though he was laughing at him, the bastard!

"You should feel grateful for what nature has given you, as it's the only reason you'll live longer than this conversation," Klaus said. "Now let's-"

He crouched down and Damon scrambled as though to move aside, to gain distance. Klaus' hand smacked down onto the armchair, cutting off his escape.

"No-" Damon managed.

A vicious noise rumbled, only inches away.

His entire body seized up at the sound. Every muscle locked up, unable to move even if he'd tried. His jaw clamped shut, fists clenched, eyes screwed shut-

Klaus was growling at him. Not a werewolf's growl, but a distinctly vampire one.

It didn't ease until the sound stopped.

Then a chuckle. "Well. If the smell wasn't proof enough… You don't have any idea what's happening to you, do you? How much have you even bothered to learn-"

To be true, not much. As unlikely as it was to even encounter an omega vampire, it hadn't been necessary or useful to him.

It must have shown on his face, much as he tried to keep his features blank, for another sound came vibrating out of Klaus' chest - this one pleased and warm.

The reaction was as unstoppable as before, only it was like molasses in his limbs, dragging him down towards the floor, making muscles feel limp and way too relaxed to be so close to something so dangerous-

It was forgotten as soon as another cramp hit.

"Not much, apparently. It's fortunate for you that I'm here."

Klaus scraped at the blood on Damon's neck with a thumb, staring at it as though mesmerized by the mess he'd made of it, leaning in like he might bite.

Damon tensed and readied for the worst.

Klaus buried his nose in the crook of Damon's neck, breathing in the smell gathering in that spot. Damon had to stifle his own sounds as that happy noise thrummed in Klaus' chest once more.

"You're welcome to try to handle this alone, to find help elsewhere, perhaps. I wouldn't recommend it. In all documented cases of an omega surviving their first heat they had an alpha vampire present. The others all perished, sadly."

Damon didn't move an inch as the hybrid nosed at his neck, his heartbeat pounding at the notion that Klaus could simply change his mind and kill him at any moment.

Klaus pulled away.

"Let's go then," he said, and leaned forward as though to lift Damon from the ground.

Damon tried to rise, to get his feet under him to back away, but his legs gave out beneath him. He went careening into the chair's armrest, clutching at it with white knuckles to try to stay up.

Standing up straight was especially hard when his midsection hurt so badly, he realized.

Damon looked up to find that impish little smile that he hated, especially when Klaus wore it. It made him want to punch him in the mouth, although he knew about how well that decision would go for him.

"I've never actually seen a vampire fall quite like that," he laughed, crowding Damon up against the armchair.

Klaus' hand clamped down on the back of Damon's neck in a steel vice and he spoke into his ear in a curt tone.

"You're going to behave," he said. "I've no intention of letting you die, but if you're an impertinent ass then I'm more than happy to watch you suffer through the entire thing. To be fair, I may do that anyways."

The smell of Klaus was too strong at such proximity. Damon held his breath to avoid having to smell it-

(To avoid reacting to it.)

"I don't want your help," Damon managed through gritted teeth.

He simultaneously cursed himself for being foolish and his body for betraying him. He couldn't squash the dread of what was to come, Klaus' involvement or not.

Klaus tilted his head. "Oh no? You'll want to reconsider than within the next twelve to twenty four hours, I imagine. But, I fear you're of use to me so there will be no ridding yourself of me that easily."

Klaus looked on as Damon was hit with another wave of pain. This one was dizzying, the worst yet, and it chased every thought out of his brain as stars exploded across his vision.

Damon's grip relented on the armchair when his hands had a spasm and he hit the floor again, curling up as though it would alleviate the pain. He'd be far more ashamed of Klaus seeing him this way, if he still had room for the thought.

He felt himself lifted as though he weighed nothing, his body refusing to uncurl itself as the onslaught continued, ringing up and down his spine with every wave of pain. He registered the motion of walking, but his protests withered away on his tongue.

He heard Klaus talking, likely more gloating and simpering little comments. It passed through his ears in low patterns under the roaring of his blood.

"-are you doing?"

Stefan. Why was Stefan here?

"-the Salvatore brothers had hidden away, so well that they themselves had no idea. Sister, if you could keep an eye on the door-"

The click of a door. Silence once more, the voices from outside muffled and difficult to hear with his ears pounding like they were.

Damon went soaring through the air and landed on something soft. He came up with a glower on his face and realized he'd been thrown onto his bed.

He paled.

Klaus sniggered at him from the doorway. Was this it? Was he going to die? Was he-

"I'll be returning in… let's see… well, you won't notice anyways-" Klaus said, slipping through the door and disappearing.

By the time Klaus returned, nearly ten hours later, the sun had already sank below the horizon and his bedroom was cast in all shade, save for the lamp on the bedside table. The room was filled with tiny, agonized groans. Damon hadn't appeared to have moved at all besides the writhing that had turned the surface of the bed into a mess of blankets and pillows.

Everything hurt now, worse than a vervain-soaked dagger. He clawed at clammy skin, desperately tried to rub the scent off onto the bed to rid himself of it, even leaving gouges across his arms with his teeth. They healed all too quickly, with no effect on the smell. And it was cold. Freezing. His temperature was hot enough to warm the blankets beneath him and he burrowed down into them for relief, but his body felt hollow and cold.

He lay in the mass of blankets, now shaking - either from the cold or the pain, but he could hardly tell. He wasn't sure how long he could stand it.

Unfortunately for him, the legends and records had indicated days… sometimes even longer than a week.

When the door opened he flailed to try to gain some distance and managed to hit the floor. He wedged himself into the corner between the bed and the wall, a shuddering ball of stifled whimpers and bitten-off groans.

"You look awfully peppy this evening," Klaus said, then entered the room.

Damon bared his teeth at Klaus.

Klaus lunged at him.


End file.
